rockin' saturday on the front porch

today was 'd' day - meaning my brother and i picked today to de-flea the basement, the cat and the dogs. have i happened to mention that my cat is a tasmanian devil (the cartoon, not the real animal) when he's kenneled. okay, thought so but wanted to reinforce that image.

step 1:: bright and early - take the dogs to the vets for a special bath. they get excited - they love the special attention. check.
step 2:: buy foggers and tape up access from basement to upper floors. prepare front porch for three hour habitation. books, box fan, extension cord, new issue of real simple (the one with the dreamy purple bag), water, kitty food and water. check.
step 3:: capture the cat. surprisingly easier than i thought it would be as he was ready for his morning kibble and sitting on the top of the steps. he slid easily into the larger dog kennel. check (whew!!)
step 4:: turn off the pilot light (no ka-booms for us please) and activate the foggers. shut the doors and enjoy a morning on the porch. *thinks to self - wow, this is going really well.* ha.
step 5:: brother asks if i'm going to be ok - yes, yes i am. he deserts me with the cat. the cat begins a mournful meow. clearly he thinks he's related to elsa the lion. (you know you started humming 'born free') i cheerfully fill a bowl with cold, clear water and fill his dish with morning kibble. he nibbles and stares accusingly. i turn on fan. then i suddenly think *i have to pee.*
step 6:: sit back, prop up feet and still think, *this is okay*. cat glares reproachfully. meows become louder and more pitiful. i murmur loving tidbits of kitty loving.
step 7:: for the first hour there is a back and forth conversation consisting of meows and 'yes, yes, i know - i'm a bad mommy.' suddenly the kennel starts vibrating like the shipping crate containing the tasmanian devil on bugs bunny. claws are clinging to the front gate as i imagine him rattling the tin cup against the prison bars. i look in the kennel - oh dear, food and water are everywhere.
step 8:: i take the emergency towel (in case i had to go in the house it was intended to be a redneck gas mask.) i timidly open the kennel door and try to mop up the water that smells faintly of salmon. ick. he takes the opening and tries to squeeze last me. we wrestle briefly as i close the door. he glares some more.
step 9:: completely bored. book is predictable and the magazine is read. cat glares more as he sits pearched on the driest spot in the kennel, the towel.
step 10:: hours pass....wait, it was minutes.
step 11:: brother returns and declares it safe to go inside.
step 12:: we attempt to clean the cat with poor results and a few scratches. clearly cat hates smelling like a baby's heinie. *sigh* we apply the neck medicine against fleas and attempt to spray him to get the current ones. yeah. not fun.
step 13:: we release cat back into wild where he immediately flies for the nearest closet. i'm sure he's plotting my demise. possibly tonight.